


Ten Kisses, Two Crows and the Witch

by Acaranna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1, AU, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acaranna/pseuds/Acaranna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: Five times Allison’s smile distracts Lydia and One time it doesn’t</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Kisses, Two Crows and the Witch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dapatty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/gifts).



> Okay, so this is my contribution to the Allydia Reverse Bang. It was fun to write, even though it was a bit difficult in the beginning. Mainly because there were so many, different ideas floating around in my head. In the end, I had to settle for one idea and this one won out.
> 
> I hope you like it. Especially you, Darling. Because this wouldn't have been born without the lovely [ Dapatty ](http://dapatty.tumblr.com/). Her art inspired this. 
> 
> Also, a heartfelt _Thank you_ to my Darling [Emeraldawn](http://emeraldawn.tumblr.com/). Who put up with my insecurities and managed to make the story below readable.

** **

 

1.

The first time, when Lydia meets Allison, it was a Tuesday.

At barely half past six in the morning the little coffee shop is already packed full of people. Lydia watches Isaac rushing back and forth behind the counter, stacking clean cups and mugs into their respective places or putting the small pastry plates where they belong. He’s smiling at the customers but doesn’t take their orders. Lydia heard it’s because he doesn’t trust himself with the coffee maker just yet.

Lydia feels the coffee maker isn’t the problem, but rather what she is currently delivering to the _Rising Moon_. She has to push the door open with her shoulder, because her hands are full. The basket is heavy in her arms but she’s used to the weight, though the it’s still a struggle. The cauldron they have in the back of their own shop is twice as heavy, and she manages to lift it off and onto the fire a couple of times a day.

“Lydia! Thank God, you’re here!”

She turns her head towards the voice and smiles gracefully, of course Scott is happy that she arrived. It’s finals week at the Beacon Hills High School, and most of the students that visit the shop were ordering either an _Amarena Awakening_ or a _Caramel Concentration_ for the stressful upcoming tests. Some of non studious students would even try the _LLLM - Liquid Luck Latte Macchiato_ or the _Strawberry Success_. Neither of those options would guarantee them of passing their tests, but it would at least prevent them from failing completely. Not just tests and exams but whatever task they have to do or plan on doing. They also saw an increase in sales around lacrosse tryouts, too.

Stiles and her always make sure that the strength of their potions is well beneath the limit they’re allowed to produce, yet still high enough to be noticeable for those without magic in their blood. They had actually taken the time to figure out the right concentration of each ingredient before even applying for their Magical Food License. It still had been hard enough to actually get it, since Whittemore Senior had been rallying against them. He thought that a person had to be around the age of fifty or older, in order to be a reliable potion maker. In the end it had been his son, Jackson, who convinced him to let them try. Losing their permits, because they overdosed someone was not going to happen.

“Go on through,” Scott grins, once Lydia steps up to the counter. His hands fly through the motions of preparing a _Chocolate Charisma_ for the nervous man in front of him.  Scott’s the fastest coffee artist Lydia ever watched, not  even having to look at what he’s doing. It’s all become a part of muscle memory.  Beside him, Erica is busy packing up some of the pastries her boyfriend makes in the tiny kitchen behind the coffee shop. Lydia still isn’t sure how such a mountain of a man could actually produce such delicate little artworks, like the _Strawberry Success_ or the simple but always loved _Lemon Muffins_ , which are made without any kind of potion. Then again, the title ‘Gentle Giant’ doesn’t come from nowhere.

“Boyd’s already waiting for you,” Erica grins, handing the little package over with one hand while the other one takes the money. “He wants to make some Strawberry Cheesecakes again. _Strawberry Success_ has been in high demand lately.” Of course it has, Lydia knew it would. Some people actually come into the _Witch House_ \- a name she resents but Stiles won the bet, so she suffers in silence - and demand the highest dosage possible. Possible but not legal.

They usually get rid of these people fairly quickly, though. Not only because Stiles father is still Sheriff, and no one wants to get caught with illegal amounts of luck altering potion in their possession; but also because his partner gets growly whenever those people try to force them to strengthen the potion above legal limits. Having an overprotective Alpha werewolf for a boyfriend does have it’s perks, Lydia can admit that.

Lydia steps behind the counter heading to drop her delivery in the kitchen, when she sees something that takes her breath away. As cheesy as it sounds, time seems to come to a halt and the world around her vanishes into nothing.

It’s a smile. Not wide and boasting, like Stiles’. Not small and secretive like Boyd’s or seductive like Erica’s. In fact, it reminds her a bit of Scott. Open, honest, a little shy, it rests on full lips that aren’t covered in lipstick. Only a hint of a glossy shine.

_Just perfect._

“Lydia? Are you okay? You keep staring at Allison like you’ve seen a ghost,” Scott’s voice breaks through the haze that has settled on her mind and Lydia blinks. _Allison? Who’s Allison?_ It’s only then that she takes in the whole face and not just the smile.

Which might have been a bad idea, because that face is equally perfect. Big, dark eyes, a cute button nose and a soft blush on high cheekbones. Allison looks like an angel and Lydia knows that she should probably say something. Yet her voice refuses to work. All she can do in that moment is stare.

Lydia feels the blush creep up into her cheeks, tinting them a light pink and making it burn slightly in embarrassment. She manages to pull her lips into an answering smile before trying to force her body into moving towards the kitchen. Her venture is successful, yet her eyes aren’t following the motion. They stay glued to the, now somewhat unsure, smile on Allison’s face. Which turns into an expression of surprise and worry seconds later. _Why?_

“Lydia! Watch out!”

The kitchen door creaks slightly when it swings outwards, revealing Boyd with yet another load of cinnamon rolls. Lydia barely manages to evade being shoved to the ground and breaking all the flasks in her basket. Her cheeks burn in a fierce red now and she quickly dives into the sanctuary behind Boyd.

_What on earth has happened here?_

 

2.

It’s over a week later that Lydia meets Allison for the second time.

She’s successfully managed to get around delivering the last couple of batches to the _Rising Moon_ by simply not being around in order to do so. One day she has to take an important phone call. On another one she is busy looking over their stockpiles and the books because she is _sure_ that there has to be a mistake somewhere.

Stiles and her both know that there isn’t a mistake in the books. Lydia is too accurate when ordering the ingredients they need, and bargaining for a good price feels like second nature for her. Thankfully, though, he isn’t asking too many questions and only grins knowingly when he returns from the shop.

It’s a Tuesday, again, two weeks on the day after _The Incident_ , when Stiles closes the door behind himself and puts the basket behind the counter. Lydia looks up from where she’s dicing a couple of liquorice roots for their newest potion. It doesn’t have a name yet but she’s sure that Stiles will come up with something, mostly in the middle of the night, like he has with every other potion so far.

“Is something wrong?” Lydia asks, when Stiles continues to look at her without saying something. It’s not something she’s used to from him. Whenever they’re together in the room his mouths moves non-stop. He talks about everything and anything that comes to his mind, most of the time these thoughts aren’t even connected to each other. Lydia learned quickly that it is better to simply let him talk instead of trying to answer every little question he asks. Especially after the first time turned into a five hours discussion about the right and wrong use of  sandalwood in the line of magic. The didn’t get anything done that day.

“You didn’t tell me that there is someone new working over in Scotty’s shop,” Stiles says, and Lydia knows where this is headed. She also knows that there is no way for her to escape. So she merely sighs and goes back to dicing.

“So there is,” she says, shrugging and hoping that he would let it go. She knows better though.

“And you failed to mention that her smile,” she can hear him grin at this, “almost made you walk into a door!” His laughter rings out and Lydia finds herself sighing again. She blows a stray strand out of her eyes and looks over at him.

“I did not _walk into a door_ ,” she points out, tipping her knife into his direction. “I couldn’t know that Boyd would come out of the kitchen at that moment.” Still she can feel herself blush at the memory. Stiles laughs loudly and jumps onto the counter. It’s a very slow day, so she doesn’t shove him down, like she usually would.

“But you would have seen it coming if you hadn’t been distracted.” He’s right, unfortunately.

“Oh, shut up, Stiles.” Lydia shakes her head, “It’s not like you haven’t walked into doors, fallen over your own feet, or ran into a lamp post whenever Derek was close.” She pauses and look over at his pouting face. “Come to think of it, you still do.”

The pout deepens for a second before the grin returns.

“So, can I take this as you admitting that you’re interested in Allison?” Stiles crows, leaning backwards in a dangerous angle. She can already see him flying off the counter. “I mean, I only did that because I was interested in Derek.”

“ _Was?_ Does that mean, you’re not interested in him anymore?” Lydia raises one eyebrow. She knows he’s still head over heels for the Alpha but it does serve as a nice distraction.

_“What?_ ” Stiles splutters, like she knows he would, _“of course_ I’m still interested in him!” He’s flailing now, barely missing the expensive lamp that’s standing on the left side of the counter.

“Then why are you here, annoying me, when you could use the time to be with him?” She looks around the shop, as if searching for something. “As far as I can see, there are no customers that need tending to.” Lydia is aware that it’s actually a cheap shot. It’s usually her, who keeps reminding Stiles that an empty shop doesn’t equal quality time with his boyfriend.

Stiles stops moving long enough to stare at her. He looks like he doesn’t know whether or not Lydia’s joking. She’s not.

“Go, before I change my mind,” she sighs, putting the knife down next to the sink before starting the water to wash her hands. She can hear him scrambling off the counter and run towards the stairs that lead up to the second story. That has actually been a close one.

Turning back towards the cauldron, Lydia waits for it’s contents to start bubbling. She has to wait for the right moment to add the liquorice roots to the potion. If she adds them too soon, the whole thing will turn into an unusable mess with the texture of a rubber ball. Adding them too late causes the whole thing to boil over, which makes it unusable as well. Timing is one of the finer points in potion making.

The bell above the door disturbs the quietness of the little shop and Lydia looks up to see who has dared to enter. Her frown turns into a smile when she sees a familiar smile being directed at her.

“Hey, Lydia, right?” Allison asks, looking somewhat shy. She steps into the shop and the bell chimes again, when the door closes.

“Yes,” Lydia replies, because what else can she say? Her thoughts feel like they’ve been wiped clean. “That’s me.” Allison chuckles and a warm shiver runs down Lydia’s spine.

“Yeah well,” she clears her throat. It’s then that Lydia notices the hand hidden behind Allison’s back. She tilts her head, feeling curious as to why Allison seems nervous.

“Do you need something?” she asks, when a couple of minutes pass without anything happening and while she likes looking at Allison, it does feel a bit weird.

“Ah, no,” Allison blushes and pulls a tall cup from behind her back. “I just thought that you might like something to drink. It’s none of the specials, though, I mean, you could do those yourself. It’s actually just a plain Latte Macchiato.” She stops, clamps her mouth shut and blushes even more. Lydia can’t help herself, she starts chuckling and leaves her cauldron to step closer to Allison.

The cup is one of the shop’s to-go cups, with the red moon rising above a coffee bean. The logo is a bit corny but at least it’s easy to remember.

“Thank you,” Lydia smiles, when she takes the offered coffee. The cup is warm in her hand but thankfully not hot enough to burn. “But really, did you need anything? Does Scott need another batch of potions?”

“No, no,” Allison laughs and Lydia has to tighten her grip on the cup to prevent it from falling. “I just thought that you might like to have a coffee that’s all, really. So, I hope to see you again, soon.” She doesn’t even wait for Lydia to unfreeze herself, just gives her another beaming smile and leaves.

Two hours later, Stiles comes back down, disheveled and glowing. Lydia thanks whatever deity is looking out for her, that he isn’t commenting on the fact that she has to scrub the floor around her working station. He merely takes another rag and kneels down to help her.

 

The cup, with Allison’s phone number scribbled onto the bottom, is safely hidden in her purse.

 

3.

The third time they meet it’s two weeks later, on a Friday evening.

Lydia can’t help herself. This feels a lot more like a date than any actual date she’d ever been on, including the time she and Jackson dated back in High School. She has that awkward feeling in her stomach, a queasy roll if she overthought it. Butterflies. What a silly thing to call a fight or flight response.

Allison called her on Wednesday, asking if Lydia would like to go to a movie and dinner afterwards. She hadn’t said anything about it being a date, though. Still it feels so much like it that Lydia wonders if she should change into something more elegant. Something a little fancier than a skirt and blouse. Maybe she should put her hair up, instead of leaving it to fall down in soft waves across her shoulders and back. Maybe …

A ring from her doorbell interrupts her thoughts. Lydia bites her lip and grabs the light-blue cardigan from the hook at the back of her bathroom door. It fits the pale-blue skirt she wears. Taking a deep breath to center herself, she opens the door.

Allison looks as gorgeous as she has each time they met. She’s dressed casually in a pair of dark-blue skinny jeans with a simple red shirt and, as far as she can tell, absolutely no makeup on. Lydia’s stomach calmed at the simple beauty of Allison, standing in her doorway.

“You’re gorgeous,” Allison comments with that lovely smile. It’s a compliment Lydia has heard a lot of times, and yet when Allison says it, it makes her cheeks heat with a blush.

“Thank you,” she replies, with an elegant nod of her head. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She can’t help the flirty tone that suffuses her voice, but it makes Allison laugh so she doesn’t feel too stupid about it.

“Let’s go then. The movie starts around eight and I know the parking situation is hell downtown.” It feels a bit like Allison wants to play along, because she holds out her arm for Lydia to take. Which she does graciously.

“Lead the way then, my Lady,” she says primly. Allison just laughs and guides her over towards the car, where she proceeds to open the door for her. The butterflies started to flutter again, even wilder now. Lydia isn’t quite sure whether or not she likes the feeling. Kind of a happy unease, like when you are faced with a surprise.

Their drive to the movies is spent talking about their past. How they grew up. Where they grew up and what friends they had. What kind of hobbies they had back then and what they do now. Lydia is left speechless when Allison casually explains that she, and her family, left France to get away from her overbearing grandfather. A man who rallies against everything supernatural, while secretly using potions to fight off the signs of cancer. Lydia wonders how such a sweet and lovely being could come from a family like that.

“Of course, by then Dad had already taught me the basics of archery,” Allison ended her anecdote about how her elementary school teacher had thought her too delicate to enter the schools archery team.

“So you know how to shoot arrows?” Lydia asks with a somewhat coy grin. She wonders where the time has gone because Allison is already pulling the car into a parking spot. The rest of the area is already filling up with cars.

“Better than Cupid on any day,” is the reply she gets. Complete with a wink and a smirk. Something in Lydia’s chest flutters. Of course she’s been on dates with Jackson, but she’s never felt like this with him. She decides to try to not think about what it means. She will just enjoy the night out with a friend, and nothing more. Because, that’s what she and Allison are, right? Just friends.

The movie theater is already packed with people when Allison holds the door open and ushers her inside. She puts her hand on Lydia's back, surprisingly strong fingers guiding her through the mass of people in tight groups chatting, or queuing in the concession line. Allison’s small fingers roll across her lower back muscles, _the lumbar_ , hot pressure steering her to turn and move around people. Lydia finds herself more comforted by the touch than she even did when Jackson touched her.

“What movie are we watching anyway?” Lydia asks, once they’re through the mass of people. “Do we decide now or have you reserved some tickets?” She glances over to see Allison blushing.

“Well, I’ve talked to Stiles, and he said that you actually have a favourite movie,” she hesitates and Lydia knows why when she sees the poster. The laughter that bubbles up inside her is too strong to be held back. She forgot the special showing that was happening tonight.

“We’re watching _The Notebook?_ ” she gasps, once the first, more violent wave of laughter has passed. “More like, you want to watch it with me? Hasn’t Stiles warned you that I tend to whisper the lines along with the actors?” It’s one of the few secrets Lydia has and yet it doesn’t feel weird to be sharing it with Allison. She doesn’t feel exposed or naked, like she expected to. Allison shrugs once before steering her towards the entrance.

The room is empty except for the two of them and suddenly the whole night feels more date-like. It’s private, and lovely, and Lydia doesn’t know how to react. So she follows Allison, sits besides her and recites the dialog back at the screen.

Lydia found a unanticipated ability from watching _The Notebook_ during every rainy weekend or on the few Valentines Day's she was alone, she could hold up a conversation about the movie without her brain actually needing to be involved in coming up with things to say. Which was a very good thing, since her attention had been focused more on the arm resting behind he shoulders the entire movie.

 

4.

It’s on a Saturday evening that Lydia knocks on Allison’s door, with a tub of _Boom Chocolatta_ ice-cream hidden in her chic shopping bag. She shivers, even though there is no wind inside the apartment block, and pulls the jacket tighter around her shoulders.

The shop is usually ungodly slow on a Saturday, so Lydia doesn’t feel too bad about letting Stiles handle it alone. He’s clever and can be responsible if he needs to be. Also, he knows why she needs today off. She does the same thing for him on the anniversary of his mothers death, or her birthday for that matter.

When Allison opens the door, and smiles at her, Lydia feels calmer again. She hadn’t noticed how tense she’s really been until then. She tries to smile back but knows it’s failing when dark eyes turn worried and the smile pulls into a questioning frown.

“Hey,” Lydia knows it’s not the most clever opening but she doesn’t feel like being clever today. “Can I come in?” Her voice catches slightly on the last word and she clears her throat.

“Hi. Of course you can.” Allison’s voice is warm, inviting. _Why are you here?_ is asked without being obvious. It’s in the tone of her voice and the curious tilt of her head. Lydia is very aware that she doesn’t have to say anything. Ally would never try to make her talk. Not if she really didn’t want to.

The thing is, Lydia isn’t sure what she wants. She’s not sure whether she wants to talk about what the significance of today is. Or if all she wants to do is curl up next to Ally and watch whatever movie they can find on cable, eating every last lick of ice-cream.

And Ally knows, without Lydia saying a word.

She knows, that Lydia is torn. Allison closes the door and pulls Lydia into a tight hug. Nothing more. She holds on fast to Lydia and gives her the strength she needs to break down and the safety of not being judged. It’s what she needs the most. Lydia’s head drops forward until it rests on Allison’s shoulder. Her eyes close and she breathes deeply. The scent of apples and cherries wraps around her. It feels grounding. Secure.

“Do you want to sit down?” Ally’s voice is quiet, soothing, and Lydia nods. She allows herself to be led through the bright hallway and into the living-room. She’s been to Allison’s a couple of times over the last few weeks, after their not-quite-date. The sofa is a dark and earthy brown, with a lime green blanket, soft as a cloud, thrown across the back. The coffee table is always covered in all  fashion and hunting magazines. Here and there she can see the white paper of a letter blink through.

“Haven’t I shown you how to keep your stuff organized, yet?” Lydia asks, obviously trying to distract herself from talking about what is going on. She has a feeling that Allison knows instinctively what is going on with her. Allison's slight strength comforts Lydia, more than she imagined.

“You did,” Ally replies, soft smile audible in her voice. “I just didn’t feel like doing it right now.” At least she’s being honest about it.

They sit down together, on the sofa, and Ally pulls the blanket down. She wraps the fluffiness around them, pulling Lydia in. It’s nice. Warm and steady, just what she needs in that moment. Just sitting  together, with Allison’s hand stroking softly over Lydia’s hair.

“What about the ice-cream?” she asks, after what must have been at least half an hour. Lydia feels a bit drowsy. She’s still sad and yet, she feels oddly calm. Like she hasn’t felt in years. At least not on this particular day. “It’s still out in the hallway. Maybe I should put it in the freezer, keep it from melting completely, or I could grab a couple of spoons so we can share?”

“No, don’t move.” Lydia refuses to let go of Allison when she moves to stand up. “Leave it, I’ll clean it up if there’s a mess. Just … don’t go now.” She doesn’t sound whiney or like she’s about to cry, in fact, she sounds a bit more like herself. Sure and strong. She’s not feeling it though. Instead, it’s like her carefully arranged facade will shatter when Ally asks the one obvious question. _What’s going on?_

She doesn’t ask, though, instead she settles down into a corner of the sofa and pulls Lydia with her. There’s a bit of struggling. pushing, pulling then settling, but finally they find a comfortable way to lie on the couch. Ally’s resting against an armrest while Lydia is trapped between the sofa back and her body. It’s warm and cozy.

“Take your time, Lydia,” Allison says softly. “We’ve got a lot of time.”

They do, don’t they? There is nothing rushing them. No work or people needed them, that can not wait until tomorrow.

Lydia looks up, some time latter, and all Allison does is smile. That beautiful, wide smile she had on her lips the day they met. It’s softer, now, warmer but no less breathtaking. Lydia feels her heartbeat rises, like it did back then. Her mind feels, not blank, but settled. The emotional turmoil that kept her thoughts going around and around is dulled. An ache that feels more like an reminder than anything else.

“My grandmother died today,” Lydia hears herself saying, eyes never leaving Allison’s face. “That was three years ago.” And so, she talks.

 

5.

It’s Winter in Beacon Hills. More specifically, it’s Christmas Day and the whole town seems to be intend on keeping up with the towns tradition, to be as classy festive as a Norman Rockwell painting.

And for once Lydia allows herself to be infected by the Holiday Spirit. Her small apartment slowly turned from classic chic to a picture perfect Christmas home. She even bought a tree, a small one to fit the corner of the living room, and decided that Derek had the honours of bringing it up the flights of stairs. With Stiles catcalling from behind.

Lydia is busy in the kitchen, she has great plans for that night. A glance at the clock tells her that she still has about half an hour before Allison will show up. They’ve been dating for a while now. If anyone asked her, she could probably tell them the exact number of days they’ve been dating, but even Lydia knows when she shouldn’t go into too much detail. The fact remains though - her girlfriend will be over in a few short minutes and dinner should be ready shortly after that. It will be the first Christmas dinner for Lydia, at least since her Grandmother died.

Lydia is happy. Everything has gone according to plan today. She woke up on time. Was able to call all her friends and wish them and Merry Christmas Her apartment is tastefully decorated to fit the occasion. Dinner is cooking without a hitch. A CD she got from Mr. Argent, of Allison’s favourite Christmas songs, plays quietly in the background.  And she even managed to get rid of Stiles and his rather colourful ideas for the night.

The doorbell rings exactly on time. Not like Lydia was checking her watch every five seconds, or was waiting by the front door. Nope. She isn’t like Stiles, ADD mixed with excitement causing him to bounce around the entry hall, like an excited puppy, waiting for Derek when they started dating.  And yet, she can’t quite shake the feeling that they are a bit similar in their anticipation. Not much. Just a little bit.

“You’ve been waiting for me,” Allison sings when the door opens.

“Really? Who told you that?” Lydia can’t fight off the smile that overtakes her lips. Neither does she want to.

“Nobody told me anything, but you were awfully quick to answer the door.” She’s teasing her now and it feels right. “Like you waited besides it.”

Lydia scoffs playfully, while she hangs Allison’s jacket onto the coat-rack.

“Please, I was just passing by when you rang, that’s all,” she says, lifting a challenging eyebrow. It has the desired effect and makes her girlfriend laugh loudly. It still feels a bit strange to use the word. _Girlfriend_. Yet, that’s what they are.

“So, do you need anymore help in the kitchen?” She’s pulled from her musings by Ally’s question.

“No, that’s all good. Go sit in the living room.” Lydia heads off to the kitchen, to flip the switch to turn on the oven again, before Lydia joins Allison in the living room. Allison is staring at the CD-player with a look of concentration. Lydia watches Allison staring at the CD-player with a look of concentration, before she noticed that Lydia had joined her. She half turns, a slow smile sneaks over her face.

“You got that CD from my father, didn’t you?” Ally asks, stepping closer to Lydia. Lydia takes an equalled step back. Her girlfriend suddenly looks more like a predator than the sweet girl she actually is. There is a dangerous glint in her eyes, dangerous but playful. Lydia has seen that look a couple of times before, mostly when Ally decided to play a prank on Scott or Stiles, and usually manages to avoid it being aimed at her.  

Now, though, she doesn’t have anywhere to go when Allison pounces.

Their laughter rings through the small apartment. Quick fingers tease over the sensitive sides of her body and send Lydia into a fit of giggles that leaves her breathless. Her face feels flushed and her cheeks are wet from the tears she couldn’t hold back. Allison isn’t looking any better. Her hair is a wild mane of dark curls around her pale face.  Her eyes sparkle with mirth and happiness.

“Do you want to know why I love these songs?” Ally asks once she has a bit of her breath back. Lydia, who still feels like she’s run a marathon, nods. The answer is clear to her when her girlfriend holds out her hand.

“Would you allow me this dance, Lydia?” her voice is warm, with a subtle undertone that sends a rush through Lydia’s body. She feels breathless now for a whole other reason. She nods and puts her hand into Allison’s, who helps to pull her to a stand.

There is no fight about who’s leading whom. Ally leads and Lydia follows. It feels natural even though they’re both people who are used to being dominant. Here, though, in the warm comfort of her home and in the arms of the woman she loves, Lydia can allow herself to simply follow. The smile is back again. The one that makes her forget everything else.

The little bubble of softly whispered words and gentle kisses holds for far longer than Lydia would have expected. It’s not the end of the CD that breaks it. Instead …

“What is that smell?”

It takes Lydia a moment to come back to reality. She frowns at the slightly disgusted and then alarmed expression on Allison’s face. Wondering what her girlfriend might be smelling she takes a deep breath and promptly curses.

“Damn, that was supposed to be our dinner.”

+1

It’s been three years now.

Three years of laughter, tears, happiness and arguments. Three years of mishaps that would never have happened if not for that fateful Tuesday morning, at half past six.

“You look gorgeous, Lydia,” Stiles says, his voice thick with emotion. He’s been there with her, right from the beginning. He’s been there when everything was good, and happy, and rainbows. He’s been with her when all of that came crashing down, when there were so many shattered pieces to collect, that it felt impossible to do. He was there when they talked it out. When they worked through the conflicts and came out stronger.

So, of course he is here now. As her best man. The brother, Lydia never knew she had wanted or needed.

“Thank you,” she answers, not _I know_ or _Of course I do_ , like usual. Just a soft “Thank you”. She still can’t believe it, that they’re here now. That Allison is waiting on the other side of the building, in a room just like her, with her mother there. Lydia wondered what mother and daughter were doing. Trying to calm her down? Talking her through the last jitters? Mrs. Argent has been with Lydia as well, already. Her own mother would have been as well but Lydia wanted Stiles.

The smile that comes to her lips can’t be held back. Laughter bubbles up in her throat and Lydia twirls around the room excitement moving her feet.

“Finally allowed it to sink in then?” Stiles asks, gentle smile on his face. Lydia grins, her gaze being lured in by the way he plays with the ring on his finger.

“I still can’t believe you got married before me,” she huffs but doesn’t really mind. The fact that Stiles and Derek are happy is enough to make her forget the threats she’s uttered when he told her about their engagement.

Stiles’ shrugs, “It’s your turn now,” he says, and it’s then that everything finally clicks in Lydia’s mind.

“I’m getting married,” she breathes and falls into the chair next to the bed. “I’m really getting married.” She still can’t believe it, even though she has been the one to pop the question on their second anniversary.

“Are you okay?” there’s worry in Stiles’ voice now. She looks up, wide-eyed and maybe slightly crazy looking, but she is okay. She’s more than okay.

“I’m getting married, of course I’m okay,”  that’s the old Lydia talking. The strong and secure one.

“Only if you’re don’t distracted by her smile again. You have to be of sound mind to say I do.” Stiles barely misses being hit by a flying shoe. Even though he is probably right. In all these years Allison’s smile caused a lot of laughter. If only because it’s the only thing that can effectively distract Lydia.

On this day it doesn’t distract her, though.

Lydia hears every word, Allison says in her vow. She hears them and she locks them away in her heart, in the same place where her smile is already stored. She hears her say ‘I do’. Hears herself saying her vows. Hears her own ‘I do’.

She hears all of it, even though Allison never stops smiling at her.

**Author's Note:**

> You know, that comments are the food of Muses, so feel free to feed her here or [ here! ](http://acaranna.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
